


The Smith

by Sookiestark



Series: Seven Times Tyrion Married Sansa [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Ice, Reforging Ice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-02-01 05:22:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21395659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: A pregnant Sansa Stark goes to King's Landing to secure Tyrion Lannister and Jon Snow's release from the Unsullied after the Burning of King's Landing, as well as take part in the Great Council to determine the next monarch of the Seven Kingdoms. To further complicate matters, while at Winterfell before the Army of the Dead came, Sansa rekindled a relationship with Tyrion as well as started a dalliance with the new Lord of Storm's End, Gendry Baratheon. Who will she choose?
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Gendry Waters, Tyrion Lannister/Sansa Stark
Series: Seven Times Tyrion Married Sansa [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1122807
Kudos: 20





	The Smith

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I am the worst at summaries. Ever since I started this series, I have been waiting to get to this one. I have both longed to write it and wrestled with it. I do not want Sansa to be too out of character but if you like a perfect, lawful good, Sansa, this story might not be the best for you. 
> 
> Again, there will be angst and complications and a somewhat happy ending. I hope this doesn't have too many chapters. Hopefully less than 6. Thanks for reading

It had all started over a sword.

Or was it a whisper? 

Maybe it was a touch or perhaps, the promise of a touch. After all, she had not been touched with kindness by a man who was not her brother in so long. 

When she thought of it, she wondered if it was a weakness of hers, that she had been imitating the Queens she knew; Cersei and Daenerys, and she had wanted to be desired by a man. Sansa had remembered how the knights would flirt and bow to win Cersei’s favor. And Daenerys had Ser Jorah and Jon’s eyes and hand anytime she wanted. Sansa had wanted to show she was as much a Queen as either of them and she could make men want her and watch her with as much longing as any woman, as any Queen. 

A whisper deep inside her echoed that it was jealousy of Jon’s attention that had started all the madness. Before Jon had left Winterfell, he had been attentive and full of admiration for Sansa. When he returned with Queen Daenerys, all of that had changed. He had barely left Queen Daenerys's reach.

Maybe it was all of those things. Sansa was unsure. 

Or maybe it had all been meant to be, pre-planned by one of the Gods, as a joke or maybe as a reward for all her suffering. She touched her swollen stomach and felt the baby move beneath. Surely, an heir for the North and an heir for House Stark would make it all worth it. She hoped. 

She was not one to regret many things but she always felt more than a tinge of regret how the events had played out in Winterfell all those months ago. Today, she would see many of those who she had not seen in a very long time. It had made her reconsider the events as they sailed toward King’s Landing, the sea air in her hair. 

Over the years, Sansa had been one who had been hurt many times in so many ways. She had not intended to hurt anyone. If only, things had been different. If only, she had stuck to her usual way of handling issues, pushing her feelings down to the center of herself where it was dark and private and reserved only for her reflection. But she had not. 

Regardless of her thoughts or the past, the ship moved steadily toward King’s Landing. Sansa had not been here to see the fire that had burned the city but she watched as they grew closer at the signs of rebuilding and repair. Scaffolding decorated the roofs and workers moved across the skyline of the city. Bran sat in his chair, a fur covering his legs to keep the chill of the sea, watching the scene. His face as always was unreadable, unknowable and entirely unreassuring.

As she watched the city grow in size. Sansa felt the dread filling her. She would have to face both of the men she had sent from Winterfell. Lord Gendry would be here for the Great Council and Tyrion needed to be released from the Unsullied and so did Jon. She had received over a dozen letters from the lords of the North, as well as the other Great Houses from the realm. Most of them were of the same mind, that the Unsullied had no right to hold noble men for so long, regardless of what crime they committed under the Dragon Queen. Though many lords were not so kind when they referred to the fallen Daenerys Targaryen.

For the entire trip, Sansa’s nerves had been on edge. On the deck, the fresh chilly salt air made her feel less anxious and less nauseous. Beside her stood Brienne, silent. But still, Brienne was better company than her brother, Bran. Whatever feelings Brienne had about returning to King’s Landing, she kept them to herself. However, Sansa knew the knight could sense her anxiety. At Winterfell, Brienne had told her not to come. “It is not safe, my lady. Wait until the mess of deciding who will be King is settled and the baby comes.”

Sansa had spoken, “I will not leave Jon. He had told me not to go ahead with the whole silly affair and I did not listen. I will not let Bran and you go alone. The baby will come in a few months. There is still time.”

Brienne had said nothing else. A week later, as they boarded the ship in White Harbor, Brienne had received a letter from Lord Gendry Baratheon, the new Lord of Storm’s End, stating he would be at the Council and he would like to speak with Brienne. Brienne had brought the letter wordless to Sansa and showed her. Sansa had read the letters, meaningless scratches with ink on the paper but they contained weight beneath them. Sansa had handed it back to Brienne. 

She had spoken to the air in front of her as much as she had to Brienne, “Lord Gendry is your liege lord. He has concerns for Tarth and your father. After all, you are his only heir. He only wants to know if you will be attending the Council. There isn't a hint of anything about me or the North. All he says of House Stark is there is no word where Arya has disappeared to..still.” 

Brienne had said nothing more of the matter. But Sansa had spent a great deal of the trip thinking of the spaces between Lord Gendry’s words. 

There was another letter she received in White Harbor. It was a letter from Tyrion Lannister. For a man of many words, he had written only written a few, “I think often on what you said to me the day I left Winterfell. It is a small comfort in this dark place. If the child is a girl, give her my name and she will inherit the Rock. It is the least I can do.”

Sansa had remembered looking at the messenger and asked, “Where is the rest of the letter?”

The messenger had shaken his head and reassured her that the small slip of paper had been all that was sent. 

Sansa had looked at the words and wondered what condition Tyrion might be in to say so little. Perhaps, the Queen’s forces would execute him before Sansa arrived. Surely he would have more to say, trapped in a cell for the moons, especially if he thought death was near. Perhaps, he had given up hope. She had thought of the hours that they had spent in Winterfell with certain death hanging over their heads. She thought of his gentleness, his laughter, and the time he had placed his hand over hers. 

He had not mentioned a son. He had known if Sansa had a boy that the baby would be a precious commodity and given the name Stark and be the heir to Winterfell. It would be a sign of Sansa’s true allegiance to her father’s house and the North. 

Sansa remembered how his hand had been so very warm and that she had forgotten how kind his eyes could be and how much feeling they could convey. She remembered how safe she felt. Safety and kindness had been what she had wanted in those freezing dark days in Winterfell before the Army of the Dead fell upon them. 

If only Theon had not been so cruelly maimed by the hands of Ramsay, perhaps she would have his child in her stomach. Though, even as Sansa thought this, she knew the falseness of the idea. There had been more to her going to Tyrion’s rooms the night he had returned to Winterfell with his Queen than just comfort and kindness. Underneath all of it, there was the flare of desire and the ache uncomfortable and delicious all at the same time in her stomach. Sansa Stark had wanted him fiercely and that was what had made her go to his rooms. 

But if she had than what had made her go to the smithy only a few moons later to find Gendry, with his freshly broken heart and his bare arms to request a favor for House Stark and Lady Sansa. She remembered trembling as she asked. 

Maybe, it had been the sword. After all, he had reforged, Ice.

Or maybe it was the way she had seen him kiss her sister, Arya. 

Sansa pushed the thoughts from her head. It mattered not anymore. Now, Sansa would have to face them both and save her brother, Jon Snow.


End file.
